Washroom stall at Hogwarts
by little turtle
Summary: Hermione goes to investigate a mysterious satisfaction in griffindor girls inside Myrtle's bathroom. What she finds there is not what she'd expected though,,, HrR, HrD, MF. Not HBP compatible.
1. Chapter 1

"What's going on here?" Hermione asked suspiciously. A huge group of girls had gathered in the griffindor commons room and things had gotten so loud that it had interrupted her reading in her own room up in the girls' tower. 

" Nothing you'd want to know, Hermione," said Lavender snidely, emphasizing her name. She looked back at the group of girls, giggled once more, and whispered, loud enough for all to hear, "We'll meet in front of the grand hall tomorrow. When she's not there." With that all the girls scattered, leaving a crease on Hermiones frowning forehead.

She went up to the boys' tower, looking to consult Ron, the other grinffindor prefect and one of her best friends, about the strange group meeting Lavender had arranged.

"Ron? Are you there? Its me, Hermione, may I come in?" she stepped through the door, facing the mess on the floor as usual, finding Ron sleeping on his four poster bed. He did look adorable when he slept, she thought. Especially when she could stop and finally pay attention to his beautiful lashes and full lips... She stopped that thought before it got any further. As she shook her head to get any other naughty thoughts out of her mind, Ron stirred and sleepily croaked, "Hullo Mione."

"Wait a sec, what are you doing here? When I'm sleeping. In the boys dormitory. Wha-?" He was interrupted by Hermione. She shut him up with a menacing look, and cleared her throat.

"Ronald, I came up here to ask you to help me in some prefect duties, but it seems you were busy dozing away. Arent you supposed to be studying for a Charms test?" she asked sternly, not wanting him to fail a class.

He shrugged, and scratched his head.

"What's this duty I'm supposed to help you with?"

"Nevermind. It doesn't seem like you can help anyways. Now, stop yawning and get studying!" she nearly yelled, storming out of the room. Ron looked after her, wondering what was wrong. He shrugged, and lay back down, falling asleep immediately.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day...

Hermione moved stealthily as she avoided professors, a few first years, and Harry, on the way to the secret girls meeting. They were planning something, she could feel it.

She turned the last corner just in time to hear Lavender say, "So it's a secret, alright? Especially that Hermione. Remember, bring a hair of the boy to Myrtle's bathroom, and you'll find a surprise waiting for you." It seemed as if that was the conclusion of the meeting, and they dispersed.

Myrtles bathroom? What was all that about? Hermione wondered as she made her way to Arithmacy. When the class started she couldnt concentrate, though it was her favorite class. It was her last class of the day, and she sighed inwardly of relief. Then she would finally be able to find out what all the cryptic messages were about. She left the class, and hurried to the griffindor tower. She paused at the Fat Lady to say, "Dingbat Drops."

She walked up to the boys dormitory and knocked on a familiar door.

"Yeah?" it was a surprised Harry that answered the door, and immediately his concern for her was apparent on his face.

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I'm here to collect something from Ron. He borrowed a brush of mine and I'd like it back."

"Um, sure. I can clean it for you; it has his hair all over it. Nobody ever wants to touch his brush but him and sometimes me," he smiled wryly, moving to get the brush from Rons trunk.

"Has anyone else but Ron used it?" she asked tentatively. She wondered why she cared. Lavender had said a boy. Not specific enough, but she suddenly wanted to take his hair, and no one elses.

"No, I don't think so, not that I know of." Harry replied. He fished it out of all the junk in Ron's trunk and handed it to Hermione.

"Thanks," she said, "tell him I took it back, would you? He'd probably panic if he found it missing, thinking I'd get mad at him for losing it," she chuckled and left the dormitory, waving a goodbye to Harry.

She walked down and climbed into her own dormitory, putting the brush down on her desk. She picked out a single red hair from the tangled mess, and put it in a small plastic bag, then put it safely in her robe pocket. She then waited out the time, as each girl soon walked inside, all looking exhausted but faintly content. When the last girl walked in, she put a camouflage spell on, felt the egg trickling on the back of her neck, and snuck out of the tower. She walked fast, faster than usual, towards the bathroom where Myrtle had died.


	3. Chapter 3

She entered silently, and heard some noises from the last stall. She took off the camouflage spell, and crept towards it, and pushed open the door. There was nothing there. Only a sign that read, 'put in 6 sickles and the hair.' She rummaged her pockets for some money, and found a galleon. Could she sacrifice so much money for an investigation? Yes, she thought, yes, this was going to be worth it in the end. She placed the galleon in the small hole beside the sign, and pushed in Ron's hair as well. She waited.

Suddenly, the floor came out from under her and she fell in an abyss, or what seemed like an abyss. She landed on a mattress on the floor of a room lit with candles, and looked around, puzzled. This was either a great trick or some great magic performed. But for what purpose? Who would do all this for a small amount of money?

Out of the shadow, a figure crept towards her. She inched closer to see who it was, and began to state her role as school prefect when the figure's face came into the light, and she saw who it was. Her words died in her mouth, and she just sat there, mouth gaping. It was Ron, completely nude. He stood there, half erect, and smiled at her.

" Hey Hermione. Whats up?" he said, sparkling eyes telling exactly what was up. She was still quite puzzled, and she said, "Give me a moment, would you?"

She turned away from the naked Ron and breathed in deeply, then out. Her mind was racing. What happened here? What's going on? What was with the money and hair and--- oh. She finally understood. Who ever it really was underneath the Ron facade had polyjuice potion in his aide. He had mixed Ron's hair in a small portion and drunk it. It was a scam! Whoever was behind this got pleasure and money from poor innocent girls and had been getting away with it! How dare he!

She started to turn and was about to yell when her mouth was covered by what looked like Rons. And felt like Rons. She groaned, wanting more. Wait, she told herself. This isn't really Ron. This is some guy trying to justify rape. Stop! Stop!

But her body wasn't listening, and instead was pressing against the hard body that was like Rons. A moan escaped her, and she let his eager tongue enter her mouth, tasting him. He tasted like chocolate mint and wine. Mmm... she thought, before she lost all conscious thought.


	4. Chapter 4

If you have a problem with sexual content, stop reading now and move on. i will soon prove to all of you why this is a draco/hermione fic.

now, to the story

Ron hurried in removing her clothes, and once she was as nude as he was, he licked his lips and took a hold of her thighs. She looked down at him, confused, and then felt a jolt of surprise when he licked her sensitive area slowly and tantalizingly. She arched her back, and croaked out, "Ron..."

Ron continued to lick her repeatedly, each time pushing his tongue further inside her clit. He brought a finger to help him, and thrust it inside her, listening for her pleasure spot. When he hit it, she almost screamed, and he used his thumb to squeeze it tightly, getting the satisfaction of a real scream. She gripped his red hair, and pushed his face into her hungrily, moaning and groaning in pleasure. He pulled away quite easily however, and licked his lips sensually. He looked at her, whimpering now, crying out for more, for more contact. He gently set her down on the mattress, and spread her legs. He slid into her in one swift movement and she screamed her loudest yet.

Pain was exploding in her now, as she felt something break inaudibly. She wanted to curse Ron, or who ever this was, her mind was jumbled from the hurt. But soon, as Ron slowly pumped at a steady rhythm, the excruitiating pain slipped away and pleasure instead exploded within her. She took a hold of his buttocks, and pushed him in further, and groaned when the head grinded against her pleasure spot. Their rhythm got faster, more desperate. They screamed together as animals might. Ron came with her, yelling out her name as his fluids gushed into her and her walls squeezed painfully.

The candles had blown out, and Hermione was sore. She gasped. She was no longer the blushing virgin nor the good girl she'd tried so hard to be. She smiled, still dazed, thinking that at least it had been with Ron, and that he'd been gentle and loving in their love making. She reached for him, rolling over on the mattress. Instead of his back or shoulder, she felt something long and hard. She bristled immediately, and took her hand away. How on earth could he be ready again? Another hand pulled her back, and placed it on the rod.

"It feels so good," Ron said throatily.

Encouraged by hearing Ron's voice, Hermione put both hands on it, pulling her hands on it, then going back. Pulling her hands on it, giving the head a slight twist, then going back. She repeated this until she gathered enough strength to place her mouth on it, giving it delicate kisses, feeling him shudder. She flicked out her tongue, and continued kissing. Ron made a guttural noise at the back of his throat, and whispered, "please."

She smiled, revelling in the power this gave her. She gave his length a slow lick, tasting the cum leftover from their sex and feeling his coarse red hair. She took the head in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and going back to lick his entire length. Satisfied with the groans Ron was making, she took as much of him in her mouth as she could. Teasing and pleasing, she licked and nibbled until Ron screamed. 

"Please, I really need to fuck you now, Mione," he managed to say, "i need to be inside you."

She nodded, not sure if he could see, and guided him into her, crying out when he filled her up. Suddenly Hermione felt Ron get bigger inside of her, filling her up to her limits. She cried out, unable to think why he'd gotten so big, so quick. Her thoughts were muddled with sex and Ron, and she didn't care anymore. He gave her so much pleasure, and she loved him, she did.

More rapid pumping, then both slumped, exhausted from the great sex.

ooh. getting closer to the revelation...


	5. Chapter 5

  
Hermione awoke, groaning from muscle-related pain. she stretched, then realizing she wasn't safe and sound in her own four poster bed with the curtains half closed as always, she panicked.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

She wrapped a blanket around her, covering most of herself from whomever she had been with last night. She looked for the wizard in question, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

"How dare you compromise a young--" she stopped when she realized she was alone. Alone on a mattress, under Myrtle's bathroom, naked. She blushed furiously, and though there was none to see her bare skin, she picked her discarded clothing from the ground carefully and dressed under the blanket. Once she was dressed, she started to look for a way out.

That's when she noticed a small table in a corner of the small room, and the small note on the table.

"see you soon."

As soon as she read the note aloud, she blacked out.

A boy smiled a small smile as the girl passed out from the sleeping powder surrounding the note. It worked efficiently, knocking her out the moment she finished reading. He should really give thanks the those Weasleys, they sold one mean sleeping powder. He signalled for the house elf to wink her to the tower, to wipe her memory of the night he'd spent with her, leaving only the good feelings. He'd learned the hard way  
that memories are best forgotten.

The boy walked through the walls to the mattress, sitting down on it when he reached it. He stroked the scratched the girl had made, chuckling at the memory of their night together. The musky smell of sex was still in the air, and he regretted ending the night too quickly. The mudblood had been a good fuck, better than most purebloods.

He took his wand out of his green trimmed robe, and vanished the mattress out of the room, replacing it with yet another one. Then he walked through the walls again, to his first class, where two big Slytherins awaited him.

They greeted him,

"Good morning, Master Draco."


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's notes: _

_Sorry. I've had a long absense from fanfics and umm.. can't get a hold of my naughty pixie just yet.i'll get better soo, i promise. a little longer than before, but containing no sex... apologies. p.s. i'm too lazy to fix the thing about her virginity loss and the pain. just let that one go, please?_

_p.p.s. i don't own anything._

_now, for the story... _

Hermione woke up in her bed four minutes later, and the moment she awoke, she smiled. She dismissed the fact that she wasn't even in the covers, or that she had slept in her robes. She just drifted down the stairs, through the entrance, to the main halls for breakfast.

"Hey Hermione! Over Here!" Ginny yelled, waving at her general direction. Hermione walked over and sat down, relishing the thump she made as she did so. Why did she like the sound of that? she wondered silently as Ginny chatted about the latest boy she fancied.

As she nibbled on a piece of toast and pondered on a thought, Harry and Ron entered the main halls, both looking quite unrested.

"What's wrong, Harry? Ron?"

"We slept real late. finishing Snape's essay," muttered Harry as he shovelled in a piece of toast in his mouth.

Ron just nodded towards Harry, as if agreeing to his mumble, and joined in the shovelling of food as fast a possible. Hermione clicked her tongue, disapproving of their eating behaviour, but said nothing. Instead, she told them as both swallowed the load of food down with gulps of pumpkin juice, "Give them to me, i'll fix them for you. it was on the vermillous potion, wasn't it? I got it finished ages ago. I'll have a look at them, so that you'll at least get an A."

Both boys gaped at the girl before them, chewed up food still in their mouths and unchewed food in both hands. Harry was the first to recover, and managed a word.

"What?"

Ron still seemed to be shocked, and unable to get out of his stupor. Then he cracked a grin suddenly, and said, "Whoa. Where did you take our Hermione, Ginny? 'Cause this is definitely not her. The one we know is a know-it-all, a selfish git, and she never, ever, on any circumstances helps us with anything."

He grinned, knowing soon Hermione would burst. He always could get a rise out of her, especially in the morning. But, oddly enough, Hermione just began cutting at a piece of bacon on her plate, bending over so that her face was concealed by her bushy hair.

Utterly confused, Ron looked at Harry, hoping his friend could come up with an explanation. Harry just shrugged, and began to wolf down his food again. A chance like this never came by, and he'd take advantage of it while he could. Ron looked to his sister, who also shrugged and started to draw little hearts in her notebook, around a name he did not recognize. He was about to inquire the redhead about the hearts when Hermione shook her hair out of her face and grinned at Ron again.

"Ron," she said.

"Yes Hermione?" Ron was a little annoyed now; he didn't like being interrupted while researching another fancy of Ginny's to beat up.

"You can check your own work, I think i'll just do Harry's and no one else's," she smiled again, waiting for an outburst. And it came, no sooner than expected.

"What? Waitaminute Hermione! Just because i said a few things, maybe more than a few things, about you, you aren't going to do mine? Why Harry's and not mine? What? Do you fancy him? I--" he was cut short by a sharp jab in the shins, obviously from his sister, gesturing with her eyes her companions' state. The girl's head was in her arms, folded on the table, shoulders shaking her wild hair up and down.

She seemed to be crying.

Ron was mollified. He hadn't meant to make her cry, only get a rise out of her; she was so cute when she got angry...

"Hermione, you okay? I, I didn't mean it, I honestly didn't. Please don't cry. I, I'm sorry. Please?" he slumped, hunger almost all gone. Harry stared at the scene, still munching on a piece of bacon.

Hermione began to shake harder, and finally lifted her head. To their apparent shock, she was laughing. Laughing so uncontrollably, that her whole body was shaking with it. Tears streamed down her face, not from anger or despair, but from joy and happiness.

The three others stared at her, until her laughs subsided.

"Oh, god, Ron, you--are--such--a--git!" she uttered, in between laughs. He just stared at her, unable to even begin to understand her mood. He'd thought he'd made her cry; instead she was laughing, laughing at him!

She finally ceased laughing at the redhead, and said, "Of course i'll still do it, you git. It is true that you are an idiot, but you're so cute when you're apologizing."

Across the hall, a Slytherin prince sat, drinking smuggled red wine in a golden goblet. He watched the brown haired girl from afar, and saw that the elf had done good. She didn't remeber a thing about the previous night. Nothing had gone wrong, everthing went smoothly.

So why wasn't he happy?

"Crabbe, stop slobbering all over, i didn't starve you. Goyle, wipe your face, you've got jam on your cheek," he said coldly, not even looking over to see if he'd said right.

The two vastly huge boys just exchanged a glance; for they were both spotless, they had finished their meal before their master had arrived, and made sure not a speck of crumb was to be seen. They just nodded and said without emotion, "Yes, master Draco."

He looked up again, towards the brown haired girl, who had just burst into another fit of laughter with Potter and the Weasel. She smiled widely, happiness pouring out of her thanks to the spell. He looked away, and sneered at no one in particular.

Then the blonde Prince got up, let out a disgusted noise, and stormed out of the Hall, off to first class.

_I made up the potion btw._


	7. Chapter 7

The day went on without faults, maybe a few minor mishaps here and there, House points won and lost, and whatnot. Then Hermione was hit with a sudden feeling of Deja vu. It happened as she walked past a group of Slytherin girls on her way to the Griffindor tower, and she overheard the words 'Myrtle's,' 'hair,' and 'surprise,' among other unintelligible things. For some reason she felt like she'd heard those words before in another conversation somewhere, and for the first time in that day, she suddenly felt uneasy and quite anxious.

Hermione frowned, and thought. 'Why does that sound so familiar? Myrtle's bathroom? I haven't been there in ages... And this deal with hair...' as she continued walking, not wanting to confront the girls just yet. For all she knew, they could have been talking about a makeover thing they were planning for some girl. Makeovers were apparently quite popular nowadays. She frowned some more as she absentmindedly touched her own hair, a tangled up mess... And she walked into some thing quite solid.

At first, she reddened because she'd thought that she'd just walked into a wall or a pillar. Then she reddened a bit more when she realized she had bumped into a person. And not just any person. Malfoy.

'Well, if it isn't the Weasel's bitch,' a blonde someone sneered. 'Watch where you're going, mudblood, or I can't be held responsible for what happens at your end of my wand.' Hermione face neared a red the shade of Ron's hair, and she cursed inside for being so clumsy. She finally looked up, and said heatedly, 'I'm so fucking sorry, _Malfoy_.'

And with that, she strode off and up the stairs, still fuming.

* * *

Taken way aback, the Slytherin Prince stood, mouth agape for a moment. It quickly passed. He grinned. He'd get back at her for that, and he knew just the perfect way. 

A snap towards Goyle.

'Yes, master Draco?'

'I want her tonight. Do what you can to lure her. I'll take it from there. And tell Montague he can have tonight. Just not her,' he grinned maliciously. The massive boy bowed, and left his counterpart and master to move on to the next class.

* * *

'Dingbat Drops,' she mumbled to the Fat Lady, who thankfully had a sore throat and was unable to sing at all. The Fat lady glared at Hermione, and begrudgingly opened the doorway to the tower. 

She walked up to the boys' tower, quite used to the stares by now. The rule wasn't quite fair. It was placed so that the boys wouldn't be able to come up to the girls dorm and do the forbidden. In her opinion, there was no point. Nowadays, girls had become bolder, more revealing, more conceited, and just as bad as the boys. Sometimes she would wonder what would happen if she brought up some courage and walked over to the boys dorm for something other than prefect duties or something to do with..V-voldemort. If she walked over to a certain redhead while he was sleeping...

She blushed furiously at the thought of Ron. She decided to get ahead in charms and re-read the textbook again. It would definitely help her get these images off her mind. She started back down the stairs, and up to the girls dorm instead.

later...

the textbook had not helped. she was still unintentionally imagining herself and Ron in some abandoned closet, bodies pressing... she needed fresh air. Hermione started to walk out of her room when she noticed her hair brush on her desk. That's odd, she thought, hadn't Ron borrowed that weeks ago? she didn't remember him returning it or retrieving it herself. She frowned, and a strange feeling at the back of her neck persisted something was off, but she shrugged it off and continued walking out of her dorms, brush in hand.

As she reached the mouth of the stair case, she spotted Ron and Harry, sitting at a table near the fire. Starting to blush again, she told herself there was no way either boy knew of her secret fantasies. Walking towards them, she greeted the two with a smile.

'Hey boys, what have you been up to?'

Suddenly, Ron grinned and so did Harry. They both stood up and said,

'Leaving you where you're needed.' and rushed off to the entrance of Griffindor tower. Hermione watched them go, confused the hell out of her mind. Then she looked at what they'd been doing, and was somewhat surprised. It was their essays she had promised to edit, and what appeared to be two little clay models of Ron and Harry. They were bowing flourishing bows down in her direction. This was pretty good enchanting, she thought, probably done with Fred and George's help. The clay models, undeniably made by Ron, had overlarge heads and hands like mittens. Their robes resembled tiny mountains, with splotches of blue on each for ties. they looked like they were made by muggle children, and yet, they were endearing to look at. She smiled as she sat down, and sighed. She guessed, this was what best friends were for.

Hermione picked up an essay, and began to edit.

* * *

A huge boy maneuvered through the hallways, seemingly bare without his counterpart or his master. he spoke to many as he walked, getting information on people and things, events and rumours. He enjoyed the freedom for several moments, then moved onto business. He continued walking, but this time chose the right people to speak to, to make them understand. Afterwards, he was satisfied with his work, and started back to his master, waiting for the inevitable event to occur.

* * *

For the thousandth time, the tiny Ron and Harry bowed, stood straight, and bowed again. Hermione was almost done editing the boys' chicken scratch essays, and rubbed her eyes. why'd they have to write so messy? it was nearly the witching hour, and neither boy had returned. Every other Griffindor had retired to his or her dorms, leaving Hermione alone in the common room, alone with the fire and the boys' papers. 

She stretched, and yawned excessively, like she did when she'd been an ordinary muggle girl... how long ago that had been... she thought nostalgically when she noticed something at the corner of her eye.

It was a paper airplane. At first glance one presumed it a normal paper airplane, often designed and redesigned by muggle boys to annoy their teachers. But a closer look told otherwise. The paper was off-white and very crisp, with no oil marks on it left by human hands. The tip of the plane was silver, as were its wingtips. She picked it up, intrigued, and opened it in her hands. It was beautiful stationary, folded precisely so that the lines were very clear.

Pansy Parkinson invites you to a surprise gift party. Bring your hairbrush and 6 sickles. Everything has a price, you know. Myrtle's bathroom, midnight sharp

The note was followed by a delicate caricature of the Slytherin girl, winking suggestively.

Hermione frowned, read the note through again, and sighed. Where was Ron when you needed him? ...On second thought, maybe that wouldn't be such a great idea... The way Pansy was winking at her told her that this wouldn't be any surprise. Some sort of surprise maybe, including the coming together of the opposite sexes or something... That must be what the girls in the hallway were talking about. A surprise set up by Pansy for tonight... Involving hair and money? That seemed odd...

But it was a curiosity nonetheless, especially with that whole hairbrush gimmick. What in Merlin's beard was that for?

Hermione picked up her hairbrush, and examined the faded varnish on the handle, the mess of tangles on the bristles. She paused, imagining Pansy's sneer at the ancient thing if and when she ventured out to the party. She'd probably be escourted out unkindly, by some Slytherin brutes.

It was a mission for one, and she would have to deceive before catching anyone red-handed. She took the essays and the two bowing figurines, and climbed up the stairs to her dorms. Once there, she set everything down on her desk neatly, and shrugged out of her robes, her simple blouse and knee-length skirt. She put on a bright green billabong t-shirt and her pale green pajama bottoms. One would think that a Griffindor thought the colour to be revolting, but Hermione found it to be soothing and exciting at the same time. Finally, she pulled out the tangles still on the hairbrush, threw them out, and pulled out her wand from her discarded robes.

She shivered when she felt the egg trickling down her back, and carefully placed her wand halfway into the waistband of her pajama pants.

She walked out of the entrance slowly, as to not wake the Fat Lady. She snorted and shifted in her sleep, and Hermione held her breath for a full minute, retreating quickly into the darkness in the hallways before letting it out silently.

Her steps were clumsy; she hadn't done any sneaking around since, well, since DA. And that was a whole summer ago. She walked as fast as she could without making a huge racket, and reached Myrtle's bathroom within minutes. She'd forgotten to wear a watch, and she wasn't sure anymore of the time. Had midnight passed yet?

Anxious, she stepped into the washroom, clean but still eerie from its disuse. She took of the camouflage spell, and braced herself.

Myrtle didn't seem to be in at the moment, since Hermione wasn't being attacked verbally by the ghost. She'd developed a particular fondness in the Boy Who Lived; followed by a particular hatred for one of his best friends. Namely Hermione. And from then on, Myrtle had used all the words she picked up from the vile students in Hogwarts to verbally abuse Hermione, sometimes almost as annoying as Peeves. But no insults seemed to be coming her way now; in fact there wasn't any sound coming from the washroom except the drip, drip of a faucet not closed quite tight.

She sighed, supposing her chance to expose forbidden parties was gone since midnight was over.

Drip, drip.

The other girls must have already come and taken their surprises, whatever that may have been.

Drip, drip.

Or maybe-- no, she had nothing. Her ingenuity failed her, as it never had done before.

Drip, drip.

Damn it, that stupid faucet was keeping her from thinking clearly. Hermione stalked her way toward the far end of the washroom, to where the dripping sounds originated. Finally having located the annoying faucet, she twisted and twisted at the knob until it stopped dripping. She sighed contently, her obsessive-compulsiveness driven away, for the moment.

The she became aware of another noise. Something.. like the music from an ice-cream truck. How odd, she thought, that an ice-cream truck be out here, all the way out in Hogwarts... She moved toward the new sounds coming from behind her, in a stall. She carefully opened the door, wand at ready, and,

nothing. There was nothing there except a tiny sign on the square bit of the toilet. and a small box with a hole on its lid, seemingly into an abyss. The sign read, 'insert brush and six sickles.' in cursive. Oh. was she supposed to put her brush in this hole? But, there was no guarantee that she'd receive the brush back and.. oh what the hell, she thought, dropping the brush into the hole with 6 sickle pieces.

Then she waited for her surprise. or whatever was going to happen, to happen.

And something did. The floor came from underneath her feet, and she only had time to say, 'oh,' before she fell into the dark.

A/N: apologies to everyone. it got hectic with midterm exams and all... This is just a chapter to get the plot going, so that everything makes sense later on... all comments are appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry woke up first. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking away sleep grime and becoming aware of his surroundings. The room--if it was a room at all--was dimly lit and resembled a dungeon. The ceiling was made of gray stone, and as he turned his head experimentally, he also noted that the chandeliers on the walls were pretty dusty.

He remembered playing chess with Ron (he'd been beating him by 5 points), but remembered nothing else. He rolled over, and groaned, still groggy from magic-induced sleep. He saw Ron on his left, starting to stir from his own slumber.

'Ron?' he croaked out, his throat feeling like a muggle medieval wheat grinder.

His red-haired companion was blinking his eyes open now, and twisted his head to meet Harry's voice.

'Bloody hell.'

'You got that right, mate,' said Harry, attempting to get up. He achieved it halfway, but fell back against the cold dungeon floor when a wave of dizziness hit his head like a troll's club.

'Harry, what do you reckon happened to us?

'I mean, we were just playing chess and I was winning, and--'

'What are you talking about, Ron? I was beating you by 5 bloody points! But that's irrelevant. Where are we and what are we doing here?'

'I dunno. You-Know-Who can't've come for you in Hogwarts, could he?'

And then both boys heard a creak on to the right, and the room suddenly brightened with the light. They turned as quickly as it was possible at the moment, and squinted at the intruder.

'No, gentlemen, I'm not the Dark Lord, but I'm flattered that you'd think so,' grinned the Slytherin Prince, standing tall and almost regal in his dark forest green robe, wand in hand.

'Malfoy,' spat Ron, struggling to rise up, and failing miserably. Both boys were still weak from the powerful spell that Malfoy had set on them. It was merely a sleep spell, similar to the one a fictional sandman would use on children, except with more oomph.

The Prince just smirked at the two lying on the cold floor of his dungeon, and started his proposition.

'It goes like this boys. Watch what I offer you, and decide on whether you want to take up the proposition or not. After all, we're to work on House unity, aren't we? Any questions before I leave you on the floor?'

'Yeah. Fuck off,' said an angry Harry Potter, more irritated now that his scar was starting to hurt.

'Now, now, Potter. That isn't a question,' chided Malfoy. He cocked his head, chuckled at the state of his two rivals, and said, 'Get comfortable gentlemen, it's going to be a long night. Crabbe,' Malfoy snapped behind him, and a massive boy came in with a large ovular mirror. He rested it against the wall directly in front of the two boys, then retreated outside the door again. The Prince strode away from the room, leaving Harry and Ron incapable of proper movement, in the dimly lit room, alone with a mirror looking into another chamber.

Ron began to protest at the closing door, when they heard familiar noises coming from the non-reflective surface of the strange mirror.

'Oh, God! Give me more, Harry, Uhn!'

It was Parvati Patil, the girl Harry had taken to the Yule ball way back in fourth year. She was being ravished by...none other than the one and only Harry Potter.

'Mate, you didn't tell me about this,' Ron whispered to the Harry beside him, gaze transfixed on the sex scene in front of him.

'There's nothing to tell you about. This is...' he trailed off, watching himself thrust deeply into the girl. It was uncanny, how the duplicate looked like him, and rather sickening, as he thought about the circumstances.

'This is pure bullshit! That's not me. Can't be me. I'm right here, Ron. And this isn't a recording. Can't be. I've never been interested in Parvati, and--'

'Shut up,' interrupted Ron, fascinated. He half sat up to get a better view of the full-frontal action being presented, and touched himself underneath his robes. He groaned, continuing to play with himself while eyes were glued to the mirror.

Harry felt disgusted. He felt his nether regions beginning to stir as well, turned on by the sight of Ron masturbating and his own image fucking Parvati. He turned away from both scenes, and thought of quiddich. He shuddered when Ron came, the noise joining the screams of ecstasy from Parvati. He'd never known this side of Ron, and he never wanted to witness it again. He dragged his weak body away from the mirror and his best friend, ending up in a corner to wallow in misery for the rest of the night.

* * *

Draco walked briskly. If Granger had heeded his call, if Goyle had done his job well enough, then he would get his satisfaction tonight. His father had always kept mistresses, more than half of them muggles. Not one of them would last longer than a month in time. Draco assumed this was the same way. He was just getting an early start in his career, and Granger would only be one of many to come.

Of course, deflowering the school's next Head girl was not the best move he could have chosen. He'd not known that Granger was seeking his services; nor had he known that she had been a virgin. She had reacted eagerly to his caresses, no protests whatsoever. Not much anyway. He'd have thought either counterparts of the golden trio had compromised her virtue, but that night showed that neither boy had done anything to do so.

Draco sniggered under his breath. To feel this superior over Scarhead and the Weasel... he'd let himself forget how good it felt to be a Malfoy and loving it.

If only he could find a way for the Polyjuice to last longer than an hour... The idea had come from Zabini, as a prank to pull on the seventh year Slytherin girls. A simple enough potion to have the chance to act out on a simple enough fantasy.. To this day, no living soul knew that the great Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, had lost his virginity in the guise of George Weasly (or was it Fred?) to that Griffindor quiddich bitch.

It had taken a month or two to work out the details after their first taste of it (the sex, not the potion), to create a working system for their reverse prostitution club. At first, they had only about 5 boys in the game, taking turns each night to pleasure themselves with the girls they lured, but soon, they became too busy to keep the system going efficiently. So the two club Heads, Zabini and himself, decided to start recruiting more members.

They had to be inconspicuous, healthy, and pretty good at acting. A few boys were already in the process of being recruited, being taught the procedures and such. Most were from Slytherin, but a couple were Ravenclaws. Soon, the system would be running smoothly again, several girls being tended to each night rather than one or two.

The money bit was just for fun, as was most of this entire operation. His club members had to be paid. They didn't demand it, but the two thought of the club as a business rather than pleasure now, what with the steady income and the perks of being at the top. Therefore they treated their members as employees, paying them per week and assigning them tasks.

They refrained from the dirty deeds themselves, nowadays, except an indulgence here and there, perhaps once a month to let off steam. This was now the most Draco had been sexually active for months. Ever since an unpleasant encounter with Pansy during Christmas involving bad wine and mistletoe (why muggles and wizards alike celebrated the birth of some dead guy, he didn't care to know), he'd been a little more than apprehensive about the operation. What if he had to be in a perverse situation with some filthy mudblood? What if he had to play a girl? Or even worse, a Professor? A Malfoy did not do these things. So, he kept away, only overseeing the recruiting and from time to time watching one of the new boys work.

But soon, masturbating in the wee hours of the morning when all the boys were asleep got tiring as well. He got sick and tired of his own pale fingers groping and stroking his penis, and longed, as any hormone-affected brain of a teenaged boy longed, for a girl to do the job for him. And he ended up, in his own urgency, taking sixth year Vladamir's place in turning into a Weasley once again, to fuck until his brains exploded.

'And Merlin, was the girl a good fuck,' Draco thought, as he reached his destination. 'Can't wait to try it again.'

He reached into his pocket, brought out his wand, and with a tap, unlocked the door, into the observation room, which was concealed from the action room. He saw the bushy brown hair then, and smirked. It was going to be a fun night.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a strange sensation to fall for such a long time. She had been tense at first, expecting a collision with some sort of surface, and she'd panicked when she found her hand had lost its grip on her wand, and it was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it was falling beside her somewhere, in this confounding darkness.

After she relaxed a little, she'd notice that it was awfully similar to Alice in Wonderland, except less bizarre. She didn't start reciting geography lessons, nor did she see a jar of marmalade on a supposed shelf. The darkness didn't give way to any nonsensical delight, and she just continued a pleasant sensation of perpetual descent into the unknown of the area underneath Myrtle's bathroom.

At last, she reached the ground after Merlin knows how long, and she landed with a resounding thump on a soft surface. Just in case it was a Devil's Snare like the one they had encountered way back in first year, she relaxed her muscles completely, and lay still. After a moment or two, when she realized the surface was not a slithering plant trying to kill her, Hermione sat up and tried to familiarize her surroundings.

Nothing.

There was absolutely nothing to be seen, heard, or felt, other than what she was sitting on, it seemed. If this was a prank, she would never forgive herself for falling into a petty trap such as this. She, along with Harry and Ron, had gone through much worse than this, so why had she fallen for this trick, if it were, indeed, a prank?

'Pansy,' Hermione called out tentatively, with an edge to her voice. 'Pansy Parkinson, are you there or not? This had better not be a silly trick you're playing, Parkinson, because if it is, I can give you detention with Filch for a month!' Still, nothing.

Then, 'Hermione? There you are,' came from the shadows.

'Ron?' This was strange. Ron had--no he hadn't. Neither Harry nor Ron had come back ever since they'd left her with their essays. What was Ron doing here? He couldn't be in on the joke, could he?

'Ron, is that you?'

'Yeah, Mione. It's me, where are you? I can't see a thing.' A sound of something being knocked over could be heard resounding in the chamber. 'Ow!'

'Hermione, I think I found a lamp.'

And suddenly it was light again. Hermione found that she was on an oriental style mattress on the floor of a stone floor, and that she was having trouble seeing from the sudden intrusion of such bright light. As she blinked to let her eyes get used to it, she also realized something very out of place.

Ron wasn't wearing anything.

He grinned at her, almost hungrily, and said, 'Hellllllo Hermione,' in a singsong voice.

* * *

Draco fell into routine; put the hair in guck, drink guck, eat a piece of chocolate, gargle with wine (to get rid of the taste). Get undressed. And begin to fabricate the lies the client will believe during the sex. All he really had to do was act like an oaf at first, and then let a little lust show through. It always worked with the other girls.

He felt the familiar sensation of bubbles under his skin, tingling like always during a change. He felt his frame get lankier, feet grow bigger, fingers becoming square-er. He felt his hair grow longer, and felt his nose get shorter and stubbier. When he felt nothing more, he stepped into the darkness Granger was enveloped in, and answered her call.

'Hermione, there you are,' Draco said, in the annoying Weasley voice. He added some confusion to it.

'Ron? Ron, is that you?' She sounded worried. Perhaps she knew about Potty and the Weasel's disappearance. No matter, thought Draco. She was going to be mind-wiped again anyway.

'Yeah, Mione. It's me, where are you? I can't see a thing.' He dropped the goblet on the ground, and picked up a lamp. 'Ow!' He yelled loudly, liking the sound of the Weasel blundering and making a fool of himself.

'Hermione, I think I found a lamp.'

And then Draco stepped into the light, turning the lamp on as bright as it would go. Then he grinned widely at the sight of Granger's form loosely covered with a green tee and bottoms. She looked shocked now, and slightly confused, blinking away the spots that most certainly covered her vision at the moment. She squinted at him, and eyes widening, looked away. Her face began to redden. It was...cute. For a mudblood.

'Hellllo Hermione,' Draco sang out, walking towards the mattress she was sitting on. He planned to stumble, trip, and fall on top of her, grin sheepishly and kiss her.

It worked. She was clearly taken by surprise, but as she had the other night, she responded eagerly to Weasley's lips crushing hers. He slowed the kiss to nibble on her bottom lip, but she took that as a chance to pull away.

'Ron, what are you doing?' she demanded without much conviction. She spoke while her gaze lingered on his lips. 'Are you involved in this petty trick being played on me?' she asked, trembling slightly when Draco caressed her cheek in answer.

'I just wanted to be with you, Herm...' He trailed off, pulled his most sincere puppy dog eyes, and kissed her again. She began to struggle once more, but gave up quickly, moaning softly. He pressed his half-erect penis against her thigh, and received a grind in return. If he hadn't been the one to deflower her last night, Draco would have sworn that she had had done this a many times before.

He would take her differently this time, Draco thought, as he undressed Granger with a flick of his wand, pausing in between kisses.

Then his breath caught. The night before, he hadn't looked at her too closely, just wanting a good fuck before bed. Blushing, she looked up at him shyly from a slightly lowered head. Her bushy mane was now all over the place, released from what few hair pins she had placed to hold it in place. He let his eyes linger over the curves on the mudblood's body, hungrily eyeing the creamy breasts in particular. He was going to enjoy himself, he decided.

He devoured the globes, kneading and nibbling and sucking and teasing until she whimpered. He trailed his tongue down her stomach, circled the belly button, and faced her sex. She was, by now, slick with juices, which he gladly lapped up. He took a finger, gingerly opened the lips, and searched again for her clitoris. Once he found the hard nub, he squeezed it, inciting from her a squeak undeserved of the Griffindor bookworm.

Draco thrust two fingers into her, waiting for signs of an almost orgasm. Granger panted heavily, leaning back on the mattress while he was busy at work. Her breathing became more erratic, her hands pulling at Weasley's hair.

He smirked then, knowing how close to the edge she was. He pulled away, and turned her around so that she was facing the opposite wall, on all her fours. Granger looked mighty confused, and began to voice that confusion when Draco finally entered her with a swift thrust.

A/N: erm. it's been a while, and i've been through like, a dozen writer's blocks. Go blame it on the literacy test. Sorry if the sexual content either bother you or doesn't seem natural or something. I'm still getting used to writing it, not reading it. >>;; And you'll see more harry+ron involvement soon. I promise.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione gasped.

Her wits had left her the moment Ron had come in, sweetly offering a shag-of-a-lifetime. But now they were rushing back, demanding attention. This was her first time. Why wasn't she screaming? Why wasn't she feeling her hymen break? Why wasn't she cursing Ron?

With another thrust, those thoughts were chased away at once, leaving room for only pleasure and ecstasy. Merlin, the things Ron was doing to her, she'd never imagined this, not like this. She'd never gone as far as this in her daydreams, even though she was loath to admit she had any at all. He reached in between their joining, and began to rub the bundle of nerves hidden there.

She really felt like a bitch in heat. Pants and grunts came out of her mouth involuntarily, and the position they were currently sporting reminded her of something she'd seen on the discovery channel back in the muggle world. He alternated between quick, shallow thrusts and slow and tantalizing ones, keeping her one the edge and pushing her over it several times.

At the same time, he continued to tease her nipples mercilessly, causing them to tingle and wiggle around for more contact. She'd never known this kind of passion, this kind of pleasure. And just as the logical part of her mind started to crawl back once more, mewing out that this must mean that Ron was experienced, therefore had slept with girls before, he finally joined her over the edge, triggering another of her orgasms, yelling her name as he almost pushed her face into the mattress.

With spent strength, he twisted her around, lifting her leg over his head, still deep inside of her, and lay both of them down higher on the mattress.

Still breathing heavily, Hermione looked over to Ron, smiling triumphantly. _Yes!_ She thought inwardly. _I'm not a virgin anymore!_ She felt a strange pride overcome her as she thought upon that.

Ron smiled back, and closed his eyes, sighing contently. She watched his shallow breaths turn into deeper ones, lashes firmly closed over his brilliant eyes, indicating sleep. Finally, she gave into the temptation of sleep over the choice of watching Ron sleep all night.

A little over a minute later, Hermione felt Ron shift in his sleep, kiss her lightly on the nose (at which she smiled over) and leave the mattress. Thinking he'd gone to the bathroom, and forgetting that she was underneath Myrtle's, she snuggled back into the warmth of the blanket that suddenly happened to be there. A deep and dreamless sleep beckoned, and she gladly surrendered.

* * *

Draco felt extremely satisfied and tired. _Who knew a mudblood could be so enjoyable?_ He thought, knowing that soon, the potion would wear off and he would, once again be Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, inside and out. The Weasley body was starting to give him a slight itch, particularly on a spot just on the bridge of his nose. He scratched at it, but the itch seemed to get even more irritated, so he just settled for scrunching up his nose. Perhaps this explained the Weasel's permanent frown.

The strange but familiar feeling of bubbles under his skin returned shortly, shortening his hair, firming his frame into a more lean body, making his fingers more slender and long, restoring his sharp nose to itself. Each aspect of himself had returned, down to every single blonde eyelash on his grey eyes.

Once he felt everything stop, he put on his robes again, and fell into a shallow sleep on the chair right there in the observation room. Near dawn, his muscles still slightly tense, Draco shifted in his dreams, running away from some unnamed foe, muttering Unforgivable curses while his dream self screamed them out like his life depended on it.

Responding to its master's cries, the wand lying on the table glowed green, killing instantly a black widow that happened to be scuttling over it. The wand seemed frantic to get into its master's hands, just itching to fulfill some of the spells he was muttering. Strangely, unlike an ordinary wand, it didn't seem to be fully inanimate. The peculiar wand emanated an aura of its own, demanding attention.

Abruptly, Draco awoke, and upon his awakening, the wand stopped moving. Scowling, he rubbed the sleep grime from his eyes, stretched rather slowly, and ran a slender hand through his hair. Pocketing the wand, at which point it seemed to preen from the contact, he leaned on the table, waiting for Granger to wake.

She seemed reluctant to do exactly that, and just rolled around on the mattress, possibly because she was not yet fully conscious. She stopped rolling all of a sudden, as if realizing her surroundings. She looked a little frightened, trying to assure her pompous little Griffindor self that nothing was wrong. Draco was a tad bit disappointed. He'd expected her to

Draco saw her lips move, saying something like 'Ron where are you.' Draco chuckled at her naïveté and vulnerability, and patiently watched for her to find the little table again.

* * *

Harry Potter slept uneasily. He knew, and his knowing of things that should be unknown kept him miles away from the pleasant dreams he desired oh so much.

Ron was out again.

His best friend had taken to the offer Malfoy had offered, and now worked as a prostitute for his disgusting organization. Each night, Ron would become another person, fuck a few girls, and return to their dorms at dawn, exhausted but content. If Hermione asked about anything, Ron just told her he'd stayed out late patrolling. And she would believe it, not suspecting anything of her red-haired knight in shining armour.

Harry wanted to tell her. To tell her what a perverted scam Malfoy was running, and how Ron had jumped at the chance to join it.

But he'd been forced to sign a contract. It was signed with his wand. If his actions even suggested a betrayal of the contract, the magical bind could leave him crippled, or so Malfoy had threatened it could. And though Harry suspected the ferret of lying through his teeth, he did not want to test the bind. After all, it could leave him crippled; in no condition whatsoever to even dream of fighting Voldemort.

Remembering the day this entire ordeal had started, he shuddered in his sleep. Images of himself fucking Parvati and Ron jerking off ran through his head, not allowing him any peace.

Suddenly, light spilled into the room, chasing away what little sleep Harry had.

'Hey Harry,' Ron said cheerfully, as he made his way to his bed. 'Still awake?'

Harry didn't respond, just glaring at his best friend. He didn't know Ron anymore.

'Hey, come on, mate. I just do what I love to do,' Ron said defensively, mocking Harry. 'You don't know what you're missing. Guess who I was tonight? Ernie Macmillan. He's a nice bloke and all, but Harry, you wouldn't believe the size of his--'

'Shut up, Ron,' Harry said a little forcefully.

'Whatever mate. Nothin' like a good shag to get to sleep.' Ron yawned a little louder than necessary, settled into his bed, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Listening to Ron's snoring, Harry looked at the blurry ceiling. It was going to be a long night.

A/N: I know my posts have been little and far between.. sorry about that. I'm still developing the characters a bit, and all. Hermione will understand soon, and then... You'll see. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Long time, no post, I know. It's been…well, let's just say life's giving me a lot of lemons. I finally got a beta, but I may have screwed this up.. so, Thanks goes out to Lynette, and perhaps apologies as well. Enjoy ;)_

_

* * *

_

It continued for a about a week or so; with Granger obliviously fell falling for each trick that either Crabbe or Goyle set up, trusting the 'prefect's instinct' she believed she had. And thanks to that obliviousness, Draco got received mind-blowing pleasure each night; every time he couldn't believe it came from a filthy mudblood. Whose first name he now remembered. An amazing feat for the Slytherin prince.

Weasel was surprisingly an excellent addition to the organization. He was enthusiastic in his work, but never went overboard with his pretenses. They were slightly out there, but always quite believable for the girls. He wasn't too bad, for someone who wore hand-me-down underwear. Draco sniggered under his breath at this thought.

'Mister Malfoy!' said an irritated Professor McGonagall, shaking him out of his daydreams. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to allow his mind to wander in Transfigurations, in which where he did not do so well. Granger seemed to be making fun of him under her breath, so that Scarhead and Weasel could laugh. However, it did not work. Weasel, to her surprise, scolded her for suggesting whatever she had suggested, and Potter just looked at Draco in grim resignation.

'Yes, Professor?' he drawled.

'What exactly do you find funny about vanishing mice, Mister Malfoy?'

'Nothing, Professor. Absolutely nothing. In fact, I haven't moved a muscle, and yet my mouse seems to have vanished in to thin air.' He made a gesture to indicate his lack of mouse, and looked around his table like he was trying to find it. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered at this movement, as it was their master's wish for them to do so.

Girls screamed and they scrambled up on their seats.

Using the distraction, Weasel moved closer to Draco, and spoke in a low voice.

'Hey, Malfoy, I hear that Lucas is skipping on you tonight.?

'What's your point?' he asked professionally. Weasley at one time had been a miserable poor little bastard, which he still was, with the exception that he now worked for Draco. And he treated his employees with as much civility as possible.

'Well, I was wondering if I could take his time slot instead of mine.' he explained frankly. 'Hermione's refusing to help me with my Potions essay. Something about being too tired...' Draco smirked at this discreetly. So the girl was feeling the effects of their secret sex life. The one she had no clue was happening at all.

'It's your choice, Weasley, just as long as you put in the right amount of time.'

As the redhead opened his mouth to thank him, they were suddenly interrupted by Potter and Granger, come to rescue Weasley from Draco. Weasley quickly willed his face to turn red, which was not that difficult to do, and swore at Draco with a wink.

'You, you,' he stuttered, just as the counterparts of the Golden Trio came by.

'Yes, me. What about me, Weasley?Draco drawled.

'C'mon, Ron, he's not worth it.' hissed Granger, pulling Weasel away, glaring at Draco. Potter just stood by, as if for moral support. Ah, Potter. He was one to figure out. One would think that a normal teenaged boy would jump at the chance of realizing the sexual frustration boiling up inside of him. But the great Harry Potter was not a normal boy. No, he would not bend so low as the Weasel and many others did, tricking girls into having sex with them. Draco had heard that muggles did this often. He'd only taken the procedure a step further. Nothing wrong with that.

He settled back against his seat, gray eyes back on Granger. Her attention had turned back to the board, where McGonagall was, droning on about Transforming something or other. Returning to daydreaming, he smirked at the prospect of pounding into the mudblood all night long.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: I know it's unusual, to have two consecutive chapters at once, but shrug I had this stuff ready, so I'll just post it now before I forget. Once again, thanks goes out to Lynnette._

* * *

It was early morning when Hermione awoke, groggy from sleep. She stretched on her bed, then relaxed again on her cushiony covers. It was going to be a good day; she could feel it in her bones.

She then reached for her toothbrush and paste, and slowly made her way to the loo to get ready for the great day ahead of her. Brushing her teeth thoroughly, she scrutinized her image on the mirror. She looked a mess. Her clothes were disheveled, the 'Billabong' logo on her shirt folded in such a way that it looked to be only 'Illabog' now. Her usually untamable hair was more unruly, bits sticking up and others just lying completely flat. She looked like a disaster.

To fix the disaster in front of her, she cut her usual three minute teeth brushing down to two, though she knew her parents would be ashamed if they found out. But her hair needed immediate attention; it looked like a small animal could have died in there.

Coming out of the bathroom, she looked around on her bedside table for the brush, only to suddenly remember that Ron had borrowed it. She desperately needed her brush, but she couldn't go to Ron in this state; he was a large part of the reason she wanted to look nice in the first place. Sighing, she returned to the bathroom and attempted to tame her hair with water and her fingers. Surprisingly, it worked well enough to flatten it down, for the time being, at least.

Then, she put on a white terry robe on top of her wrinkled pajamas, and headed down the tower to go give the boys a visit.

Harry woke to the sound of someone knocking on his door. For a moment, he assumed it was Ron, coming back late from his so-called 'Late shift,' but then he remembered that one, Ron never knocked to get in, and two, he had already come in a few hours before. Rising from his bed groggily, he reached for his glasses and shuffled toward the door.

'Who is it?' he asked, yawning. Dawn hadn't broken yet, so he was walking around half-blind, even with his glasses on.

'It's me, Harry,' said a familiar voice through the door. He opened it, welcoming his other best friend. It was now the second time in less than two weeks that she came up to the boys' tower. He frowned.

'What're you doing here, Hermione? Especially at this hour??

'I came to take back something. I think Ron borrowed it.' She sounded urgent, like it was something very important.

'What is it? I'll fetch it for you. He's had a…busy night.'

'My brush. You know, with the worn out wooden handle, with my initials carved into the bottom of the handle? Ron borrowed it from me a while ago' I think my hair may need it more than his does.' she said with a small chuckle. But Harry's frown deepened.

'You took it back, Herm, over a week ago!' Now she was frowning too.

'No I didn't. I swear I didn't take it back. How could I? I haven't been up here in ages.'

Harry was suspicious. Could Malfoy have had anything to do with Hermione's lack of memory? Or was he just being paranoid Potter?

'Hermione,' he said slowly, watching her face carefully for signs that she was under a spell. 'You came here, exactly a week and two days ago to retrieve your hairbrush. I remember. I was here.'

She just looked at him oddly, like he was speaking gibberish.

'No, I didn't. I just did Prefect duties and then went to bed early…I think.' She looked unsure now, not trusting her own memory, which was, most of the time, flawless. After all, how could one remember each word of Hogwarts: A History without a perfect memory? Harry's sixth sense was going off like mad in his head. He fought to keep his voice even.

'Hermione, can you tell me what you did last night??

'Sure I can.' she replied, puzzled at his behavior. And if it had been a week and two days ago, this statement would have been true. But now, Harry watched as she struggled to even make a guess at what she herself had done only several hours ago.

'I read the seventh chapter of the Potions book again, just to check my essay over, and then I talked to Colin for a bit about muggle pictures, then he gave me a…' she trailed off.

'He gave you a…what, Hermione?' Harry repeated, anxious.

'I don't know, Harry. My memory's kind of a blur from there. I remember nothing much until my head hit my pillow and I slept without a dream.'

It was as he'd suspected. She, his best friend, had been lured by one of Malfoy's boys somehow, just like Ron. Except she was getting the other end of the deal. She had no idea what was happening to her. It almost killed him to see her so confused, and not be able to tell her anything.

'Harry, do you think someone's messing around with memory spells?' she asked, her face so expectant.

'Maybe.' he replied grimly. He wanted to tell her. He did. But he couldn't risk being crippled.

As his thoughts warred with each other, he heard someone stirring behind him. His instincts told him it was Ron.

'Let's go outside.' he said quickly, pushing Hermione out of the door. He followed suit, and closed the door behind them quietly. He didn't want Ron involved in this.

'You know Ron,' he said with a half-hearted smile. 'He needs his beauty sleep.'

Hermione did not return the smile.

'Listen, I'm sure it's nothing, 'Mione. I'll ask Ron about the brush when he wakes up. I could be mistaken. You go and don't worry about it. And ask Ginny for a brush when she wakes up. I'm sure she뭠l have a spare.' He forced a grin, which turned out to be more of a grimace.

Hermione frowned again, and turning around, walked slowly back down the tower steps, though Harry knew she was bursting at the seams with questions. He knew she was just being considerate for Ron's sake. Merlin knew how much Harry despised him right then. Ron and his stupid ventures with Malfoy; what were they all really doing to those girls besides the sex? The more Harry thought about Hermione's behavior, the more he hated Ron's decision and Malfoy's treachery.


End file.
